


Little League Rivals

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hepburn Hummel-Gilbert and Tracy (Cohen-Chang-Evans) Anderson play little league soccer together. That’s the start of everything. [Klaine. Rival soccer mom!AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PTO stands for Parent-Teacher Organization. Blame Orphan Black for this!

Kurt Hummel is late.

It starts, of course, with a phone-call from his ex-husband (“Hey, we’re touring in Jersey next month, do you think I can take Hepburn on the tour bus for a while?” “He is eleven  _absolutely not”_ ) and ends with screaming, and slightly scorched blueberry scones. And Kurt is late, late to his son’s soccer practice, for which he was supposed to bring snacks.

That are now only a  _little_  burnt, but it’s Elliot’s fault, not his.

He speeds to New Rochelle Middle School, and tries to think about how to tell his son that he  _can’t_  go with his dad for a couple of weeks on the tour bus, how that’s just not a safe environment for a growing young boy. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Elliot to be safe with their son, it’s just that Kurt knows Elliot has to sleep, eventually, and who knows  _what_  Elliot’s bandmates get into on that bus.

Kurt knows what they get into on that bus. Kurt used to into a  _lot_  of trouble on that bus: there is no way in hell he’s letting his fragile baby boy in that environment.

So he’s already on edge, a little, and when he pulls up to the middle school he sees fifteen little boys with cupcakes in hand and blue icing on their faces.

He frowns.

It’s  _his turn_  to bring snacks for today’s practice. He knows its his day because he marked it on his calender,  _make snacks for Hepburn’s practice @ 4_ , and yet here the New Rochelle Tigers Cubs are, already supplied with snacks.

Which makes his slightly scorched blueberry scones now worthless.

Infuriated, he slams the car door shut, and walks calmly ( _marches briskly_ ) towards the table where the kids and a few adults are already standing about.

“Oh Kurt!” Debbie Johnson, Tommy Johnson’s mother and a member of the PTO with Kurt, waves at him. “You didn’t get my text?”

“No, Debbie, I did not get your text,” Kurt scowls, placing the scones on the table, where they are ignored in favor of the bright blue cupcakes. “I thought it was my day to bring snacks.”

“That would be my fault,” A voice Kurt doesn’t recognize pipes up, and Kurt turns to look at him. He’s a handsome man, a little younger than Kurt, with gelled back hair and preppy looking clothes. Like, extraordinarily preppy clothes. Kurt sort of hates him already, despite the man’s classically handsome looks and firm handshake. “Blaine Anderson. My son Tracy just made the team, so I told him I’d bring cupcakes to celebrate. I hope I didn’t step on anyone’s toes.”

He  _absolutely_  stepped on Kurt’s toes.

“Oh, Kurt, did you know Blaine here is a  _professional_  baker?” Debbie tells him cheerfully.

“ _Former_  professional. I’ve retired, to spend more time with Tracy.”

It’s amazing that Debbie doesn’t swoon on the spot.  _Disgusting_. “They look—lovely.” Kurt compliments hesitantly, trying to ignore the bright blue icing and the tiny fondant soccer ball decorations.

Blaine shrugs. “Just a little something I whipped up last night, no big deal. Anything for Tracy, you know?”

 _Oh, crawl in a hole and die already_ , Kurt thinks unkindly.

“Kurt, I was  _just_  telling Blaine here about our PTO meeting on Thursday, and telling him he should come join us! Don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea?”

“Actually,” Blaine coughs discretely. “I was the PTO president at Tracy’s last school. I’m sure I can—”

“We don’t have a PTO president,” Kurt interrupts, trying his hardest to keep the bite out of his voice. “We’re community run, and there’s no real need for an official—”

“Oh, but Kurt, don’t you think maybe we should?” Debbie says for him. “I mean, haven’t you said so many times that it would be  _so much easier_  to get things accomplished if there was actually some authority behind the PTO—”

“Yes, but—” Whatever Kurt is about to argue is lost, for his son comes running towards him, with blue icing and cake crumbs smeared on his face. “ _Hepburn Finn._ Go wash your face. Right now!”

Hepburn frowns. “But I wanted another cupcake.”

“You left most of your first one on your face!”

“…Third.”

“Third?” Kurt blinks. “Go wash your face. Right now, young man. And  _no more cupcakes._ ” Hepburn runs off, and Kurt turns to Debbie. “This is why I suggested sugar-free snacks for practice time. He’s not going to want to eat dinner now, and I doubt he’ll sleep.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Blaine laughs, and Kurt  _whirls_  towards him. “He’s a growing boy. A little sugar won’t hurt him.”

“Do  _not_  talk to me about how to raise my son—”

“Aren’t you being a little hypocritical?” Blaine asks, looking over at the plate of scones Kurt brought. “I mean, scones aren’t exactly the picture of nutrition either—”

“These are!” Kurt argues. “They’re blueberry! And they have greek yogurt in them!”

Blaine opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then he stops himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about health foods.”

Kurt doesn’t, but there’s something about Blaine that just  _irritates him_. It’s probably the bowtie: it looks ridiculous on a grown man in the middle of a soccer field.

“I’ll try to bring something healthier next time, I just wanted to celebrate something for my son.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt snaps, in a ways that sounds like it’s not fine, it’s not fine at all. “I’ll see you at the PTO meeting Thursday, Debbie. It’s was nice meeting you, Anderson.”

He takes Hepburn and the scones and he  _leaves_ , before Blaine or Debbie can say anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapters more often! This scene is zero Klaine development but setting the plot up for later. Enjoy

On the way home from soccer practice, all Kurt hears is how 'awesome' Mr. Anderson and his son Tracy are.

Apparently they just moved to the neighborhood a few weeks ago, but they seem to be a part of the community already. Tracy is “super smart” apparently, but not actually any good at soccer, which is okay as far as Hepburn is concerned because none of them are really all that good at soccer. And Mr. Anderson is smart and funny and makes  _really good_  cupcakes.

“He reminds me of Dad, actually.” Hepburn tells him, and Kurt tightens his grip on the steering wheel at the mention of his ex.

“Irresponsible and incapable of thinking things through?”

“ _Fun_ ,” Hepburn laughs. “You know, that thing you've forgotten how to do.”

“I can be fun,” Kurt fidgets uncomfortably. “Remember that time I—I can be  _fun_.”

Hepburn rolls his eyes, a move so like Elliot that it makes Kurt uncomfortable. “Whatever. Speaking of Dad, have you heard from him lately?”

“I talked to him earlier today, actually. Why?”

Hepburn shrugs. “I was just wondering when I'd get to see him again, that's all.”

Kurt bites his bottom lip. He considers lying to his son, not telling him about Elliot's offer, but that's not the kind of father he wants to be. He wants to be like his own father, and he  _wants_  to be honest. “He's going on tour in Jersey next month, and wants you to come on the tour bus with him. Maybe for your birthday.”

Hepburn's eyes light up. “ _Really?_ ”

“I don't think it's a good idea.”

“What? Oh, come on, Dad!”

“I already told him no.” Kurt bristles, pulling into the driveway of their home.

“ _Dad!_ ”

“A tour bus is no place for an eleven--”

“ _Almost twelve!_ ”

“--year old boy, I  _know_ , Hep,” Kurt sighs, opening the car door. “And I know you want to see your dad, but I just don't think the tour bus is a good idea. Maybe when you're older--”

Hepburn huffs, and stomps up the stairs to the front door of the house. “You just don't want me to spend any time with Dad.”

“Hep, that's not true, I--”

Hepburn slams the door in his face.

Kurt sighs, rests his head against the front door, and wonders how Burt did it.


End file.
